So yesterday I talked a little bit about my chronic bra troubles. Finding proper support for the twins has been an ongoing issue pretty much since they magically appeared on my body, like, a decade ago. In my case, the subject of bras is fraught with old psychological baggage—not only did I develop waaaay before any of my friends, I got to experience the joy of pervy stares from adult men and (oh boy!) the added bonus of never being able to find a bra in my size no matter how many racks my mother and I looked through.
As you may be able to tell, it’s not just ill-fitting brassieres that give me the night-sweats, it’s also my semi-negative perceptions about my ginormous boobs. In a society where being very, very thin and tiny is exalted, one doesn’t feel always feel great walking around with a set of huge knockers. Oh yes, you do get plenty of attention, but most larger-busted women will probably agree that being shamelessly leered at by nasty strangers is hardly something that inspires one to feel a rush of self-confidence.
I believe that my own body issues can be somewhat alleviated by taking a two-pronged approach. First, to simply remind myself every day that, hey, I’m a pretty good person and I shouldn’t be torturing myself for being born with a certain kind of body type. I mean, it’s not like I had much control over my own genetics.
And, second, to find a proper support system for holding up my sweater puppets. Not having to deal with pinching, bulging, and constant repositioning would certainly make me feel less resentment about having plus-size breasts on an average-sized frame.
As it turns out, a lot of my bra-finding troubles stems from the fact that I’m wearing the wrong cup-size (a very common problem.) It’s been years since I had my bra size measured and, undoubtedly, things have changed. The husband (who is always very concerned when it comes to this topic) suggested that we take a trip down to the bra section at our local department store to have my breasts scrutinized by the old lady with the measuring tape.
However, I figure that we could do just as good a job taking measurements at home and figuring it out ourselves. First of all, I don’t think that I’m emotionally secure enough yet to go to a department store and not feel like absolute dirt about my body just because they didn’t have my super-rare size in stock at that particular moment. Secondly, I don’t want to feel pressured to buy whatever it is they do have in stock in the (likely) case they only have something not-so-flattering in my size.
I think some of you know what I mean here… It’s like, yeah, it takes a lot of material to hold these puppies up. But at least throw some lace my way. Maybe some detailing. And some other colors than white or black, for God’s sake.
So, anyway, it’s the internet for me!
Now that I have my true (I think) bra size, the search is on. More on this later. In the meantime, wish me luck!
